


what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth (what were you digging)

by Draco_sollicitus



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Accidental kidnapping, Angst, Curses, Eventual Smut, Grief, Hades and Persephone AU, Hades!Zuko, M/M, Persephone!Sokka, Romance, greek mythology crossover, it's a sad one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25414438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: Sokka is immortal; it's been tested, he knows that he can't die. He's immortal, but he's not quite a god like his sister, Katara. He's immortal, but he's not quite powerful like his friends Aang and Toph.He's just sort of Sokka: good at fixing things, good at playing pranks, good at helping people.When a bet against Toph goes horribly wrong, and an attempt to save him goeseven worseSokka finds himself the unwilling guest of the Lord of the Underworld. And, strangely enough, every story Sokka's heard about Lord Zuko seems to be ... completely wrong.(Also, he's really handsome. Why does he have to be handsome?)
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 160
Kudos: 2174





	what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth (what were you digging)

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO and welcome to the Hades/Persephone ATLA fic that literally no one asked for. 
> 
> I've been writing this in a daze since Friday, briefly considered releasing it in three chapters, gave up, made it a giant one-shot, and slapped a Hozier lyric on it. ANYWAY.
> 
>  **warnings**  
>  Injuries/references to blood - Sokka falls and breaks bones  
> Self-loathing/implied depression (Zuko)  
> Lots of twisted family dynamics (Zuko's family) with attempted murder, forgotten identities, and loss of loved ones  
> TW: Seizure/electrocution in one scene  
> Smut Alert - mostly implied, but you definitely know what they're doing (they're immortal, and both look 21/22 which is where their bodies stopped developing to match Greek myth obsession with youth)  
> Sad times all around here and there
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Sokka did not know for how long he had been alive.

Time was meaningless when you were immortal; he knew that it had been hundreds of years since his sister had burst forth from the snow, born of their mother’s sacrifice. He knew that he had been alive for only a few years longer than his sister. He knew that they had the appearance of young, healthy humans; they had stopped growing years and years ago, forever frozen at the far side of adolescence, perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two to anyone who saw them and did not see them for who they really were.

His sister was special. Most humans called her a goddess, and Sokka believed it. Katara: rain-bringer, ocean-speaker, water-bender. Where she trod, life followed -- the humans grew crops by the gift of her storms, and many worshipped her, although she cared little for that. She wanted to help, so she helped.

Sokka wanted to help too, but his was a different sort of help.

He often got into trouble with their friend, Aang, who looked younger than them both, frozen in youth, but who was much older than either of them. Aang walked on air, and directed the winds; he carried messages for the other immortal beings, and his laughter and bright smile hid a grief deeper than Tartarus. He and Sokka played famous, disastrous pranks on one another -- often mortals got caught in the middle, and they’d have to fix it.

They always fixed it.

Sokka, who could bend no element like his sister and friend, Sokka, whose gifts were learned and not given, Sokka, the fixer. His gift was in building and in mending, in thinking and in innovation. 

Perhaps he was not the swordsman that Piando was, nor the forger that Teo and his father the machinist were. Sokka did not appear to excel to anyone who did not watch him as he spent decades and centuries honing skills, eager to learn, eager to help. 

At war meetings among mortals, he was known to disguise himself and whisper wisdom that echoed into shouting, shouts that eventually saved lives. At moments of frustration for human geniuses, Sokka would hide himself in a tunnel of wind from Aang and would nudge pieces of inventions together until they worked, invisible to the mortal eye.

He sought no credit, no glory.

So, Sokka was not a god, but he was appointed guardian of many villages he saved from destruction. He was liked, if not adored, and he preferred it that way. He traveled the world, from nation to nation, and made friends quickly. He fell in love twice -- and lost one love as she became the moon, per her destiny, and lost the other love as she left to join the virgin huntresses -- and loved often. 

It was after he befriended Toph, a younger immortal with the ability to move continents, that the real trouble found him.

They made a contest of sorts -- the first to collect the truest core of the elements, from each corner of the world, would be the winner. The loser would have to carry the winner to the top of the tallest mountain in all the world, on their back. 

Sokka did not intend to lose.

* * *

“Alright. Earth. Earth. Earth. How am I supposed to out-do _Toph_ with earth?” Sokka groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead as he entered yet another rocky ravine. 

He spotted a pebble rolling on the ground, his attention diverted by its unexplained movement. 

“What?” Sokka shielded his eyes and looked up the sloping incline towards the distant top of the canyon. 

The sun was hot, which only made sense. It was the summer solstice, after all. The longest day of the year. And Sokka was here at the bottom of a ravine looking for something that would top the earth-shaker herself.

There was a shadow of movement behind an outcropping of the sandstone, up on the side of the ravine, and Sokka frowned, taking a step forward. 

“Who’s there?” He called out, hand going to his boomerang. “Hello? I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

Another brief shifting of concealed movement, and more rocks slid down towards him. 

“It’s probably a goat,” Sokka muttered to himself. Then, he patted his stomach forlornly. “Spirits, goat sounds good right now.” Sighing, he continued to scan the rocky landscape; something shone in the bright sun, catching his attention.

“What?” Sokka took a step onto the incline, trying to get his balance as he squinted. His eyes widened when he saw what it was.

A diamond.

“Truest core of the element,” he whispered before pumping his fist in the air. “Oh, Toph, you are going to _regret_ it when you’re carrying me up that mountain! Ha!” He chortled to himself as he jogged up the ravine, eager to collect his prize and then head east towards Toph’s home.

He had already collected a core of ice from the South Pole and sent it back with Aang, and a bag of wind collected from a cloud by Aang’s friend, Appa. He would have to figure out fire later, but for now -

For now, his foot caught, awfully, on a hidden spike of rock; Sokka shouted in pain and then twisted backwards, tumbling down the ravine and slamming into the ground below. His head glanced off a rock as he landed, blurring his vision. 

More rocks were dislodged by his tumble, and the beginnings of an avalanche began to resonate throughout the ravine.

“Ugh.” Sokka spat out dust and blood and winced as a large rock fell from now-shaking wall of the ravine and pinned his leg. “Ow.” 

As his vision faded, Sokka worried that if enough rocks fell, he might be stuck down here a while. He had no doubts that Katara would find him eventually - and probably tease him for an eon - but it could take awhile, maybe years. Toph would help, but -

There was a shift again, at the edge of his vision, and Sokka turned his head towards it weakly.

“Hey, could you help m-” His voice broke as he started to cough, an awful, biting cough that made his ribs sting. They were probably broken then, and the idea made him groan. 

Even as an immortal, the feeling of a broken bone knitting back together was pretty gross.

The figure walked towards him quickly; oddly enough, before he would come to Sokka’s aid, he glanced up at the sun and not the ravine, which threatened a present danger.

“Hey-” Sokka tried again, and the man looked down at him, his face hidden by a cloak. “Um-”

The man knelt fluidly, and warm hands went to Sokka’s forehead; his vision blurred awfully as unconsciousness began to overtake him, and the last thing he heard before the buzzing in his ears grew too loud was a rasping, irate voice saying, “Oh, great.”

 _Oh, great_ was right, Sokka thought. 

It was strange. It felt as though he was being dragged through something cool and dark and deep; air moved around him swiftly like it did when he flew with Aang, yet it was fluid like walking along the ocean floor with Katara in one of her bended domes. 

The motion didn’t stop before Sokka was lost completely to the darkness.

* * *

When he opened his eyes again, it was still warm, but much darker than before. 

The sun felt very distant, and the ground he was lying on felt strangely soft; Sokka groaned and tried to sit up.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“That’s fair,” Sokka wheezed, lying back down. He curled his fingers into the ground, and realized he was on some sort of mat. “Oh, hey, thanks for getting me out of there.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

That voice again, strange and rasping, the tone put-upon and abrupt. 

Sokka rubbed his head and winced at the lump on his skull. “No, definitely thanks. I’d be ground meat at the bottom of that canyon if you hadn’t pulled me out.”

“More like, pulled you down,” the man muttered, as though he didn’t think Sokka would hear him clearly. Well, maybe Sokka _didn’t_ hear him clearly.

Sokka whacked his ears, which were still buzzing terribly. “Sorry, what? It’s - I can’t really hear anything-”

“It’s the pressure change. You’ll get used to it.”

“What? What does that mean?” Sokka tried to sit up again and groaned as his ribs strained. There was a hiss from the cloaked man, who rushed out of the shadows where he’d been hiding to help prop Sokka up. “Thanks. Where am I?”

“In terms of latitude and longitude? Probably not too far from where you fell.” The man sighed heavily. “But, there’s the matter of…”

Sokka, his head reeling from the injury and whatever else had happened, glanced around for the first time, his eyes adjusting to the dimmer light.

His eyes widened in shock. “Uh.”

The entire world was a dark red, almost purple. The sun sat incredibly far away, so that it had the same brightness as the moon would on darker nights; the air was humid and dense, and the back of Sokka’s neck prickled as he heard a distant, lonely roar that sounded almost like --

“Is that - is that a dragon?” Sokka asked, cricking his neck as he tried to locate the source of the noise.

“That’s Druk. He’s … friendly. Enough.”

For the first time, Sokka got a good look at the man who had helped him (and, who had brought him here). He could see his profile, at least, and he was shocked to realize that the man was about his age, with shoulders and a frame that were slimmer than his own. The stranger had skin as pale as Toph’s, and Sokka was pretty sure his eyes, or at least the eye he could see, was a burnished gold. 

He was, undeniably, the most handsome person Sokka had ever seen.

“Uh. So, uh, I’m Sokka. Who are you?” Sokka asked, feeling unsure of himself suddenly. He rubbed dirt off of his scalp, sure that he looked far too beat-up to compete with whoever this person was.

“My name is …” the man sighed. “Zuko.”

“Zuko?” Sokka repeated. He frowned, his mind digging through the stores of information he had collected. “Wait a second. You’re - Zuko-Zuko? The … fire prince, or whatever? Son of Ozai?”

“That’s the one.” Zuko’s hand curled into a fist, and Sokka saw a small curl of flame lick around his thin fingers before it disappeared. 

“But … but your family was banished, after the war,” Sokka said slowly. “How were you out there-”

“I was banished by my father before that war,” Zuko said, his voice dripping with acid. “It’s the only reason that the rest of the old gods didn’t throw me in Tartarus with my father, or drive me insane like my sister. They gave me a job instead.”

“Right. Sorry, right -” Sokka had actually heard rumors that the oldest child of Ozai had not inherited his father’s bloodlust; and, he hadn’t seen or heard tell of Zuko fighting on his father’s side in the Last War. “Just trying to … piece this all together. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have every right to hate me.”

“Hate you?” Sokka frowned. “Why would I hate you? My sister and I fought against your father, not you.”

Zuko’s lips curled upward, but only for a second. “You have no idea where you are, huh?”

“What? What do you-” Sokka’s brain, still sluggish from his fall, finally clicked into place as he looked around and saw distant walls of flame, rolling sections of black shadow that creeped along the bowl of land they were in, a landscape that was both terrifyingly massive and yet oppressively small. 

Suddenly, he remembered what Zuko was the god of; well, really Sokka just realized what it meant for _him._

“Oh. Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, shit!” Sokka tried to jump to his feet, but shouted in pain a second later when his bones ground together the wrong way. Zuko hissed and reached forward to pin him down, but Sokka smacked his hands out of the way. “Where the hell am I?”

“You … just answered your own question.” Zuko stood and took a step away, his back now to Sokka fully. “Hell. Sort of.”

“Why are we in hell? Am I dead?”

“You aren’t dead. You can’t die.” Zuko sighed heavily. “Neither can I, so if you want to try and murder me, please don’t waste your time. Or my time, for that matter.”

Sokka realized that his hand had curled around his boomerang; refusing to feel guilty, he let go of the weapon and scowled at Zuko, who continued talking: “You were injured, I tried to help you. Now you’re here, in the Underworld, where you won’t be injured further.”

“Did you … you brought me down here?” Sokka spluttered. “You _kidnapped_ me?”

“Why would I want to kidnap you?” Zuko exploded, wheeling around. “What could I possibly have to gain from kidnapping you?”

Sokka didn’t answer: he couldn’t. His mouth had fallen open, and he’d flinched openly at the sight of Zuko’s face.

If the right side of his face was lovelier than any Sokka had seen, Yue excluded, the left side of his face was horrifying. A burn had disfigured it, twisting the flesh and almost removing the eye; the center was a deep, blood red, and then it faded out to whorls of dark brown and light brown that swallowed his ear and creeped below his jaw.

“What happened to your face?” Sokka croaked, his anger gone for a second. “Holy-”

Zuko hissed, and distantly the dragon roared again. “Sorry to frighten you.” He pulled the cloak in front of his face again and turned to the side, so all Sokka could see of his profile was the tip of his long nose and the slight shape of his unruined cheek.

“You are not a prisoner here, but you also cannot leave,” Zuko snapped, his voice different now. “You will stay here, and no harm will come to you.”

“What?” Sokka tried to get up again and groaned in pain and frustration. “You’re - you’re going to keep me down here? I want to leave!”

“Everyone in this place wants to leave it. That hardly makes you special.” Zuko spoke more calmly. “Your healing will be overseen by attendants; you will not be able to see them as they are spirits. They have no intention to hurt you.” 

With that the ruler of the Underworld walked away from Sokka.

“What? No, I have to _leave,_ and now. My sister needs me! A lot of people do - you can’t just trap me down here!” Sokka shouted fruitlessly at the cloaked figure retreating through the darkness. “Come on, I know you’re _you,_ but you have to have a heart!”

Lord Zuko stopped and cast a half-glance over his shoulder; his voice was cold when he spoke. “Haven’t you heard? The god of the Dead doesn’t have a heart.”

And then he was gone, and Sokka was alone in the creeping, damp mist that seemed to rise out from every inch of the ground.

* * *

Toph broke the news of Sokka’s absence awkwardly to his sister and closest friend.

Three weeks after the summer solstice, when he was still missing, the three broke off in different directions, starting at the place where he was last seen.

Aang watched Katara grow more distant and more furious; warily, he watched her temper expand as riverbeds dried up and the rainclouds diminished over thirsty fields. There was no way to soothe her anxiety, and the longer Sokka was missing, the more Aang had to wrestle with the way to have Katara accept that her brother might not ever return.

“He’s out there somewhere,” Katara insisted tearfully when Toph tried to suggest that exact idea to her. “He is, and he needs me. I’ll never, ever give up looking for him.”

Toph and Aang exchanged a long look and sighed as they pledged their support to Katara’s quest, even if it took a thousand years and a day.

“Where are you, buddy?” Aang whispered as he soared through the clouds, searching through gritty, tired eyes. “Where did you go?”

* * *

Sokka wasn’t sure how to mark time in the Underworld.

The sun never set; there didn’t seem to be a hint of the moon. It was always slightly too warm to be comfortable. It was always humid. What little plants could grow seemed hardy but unmoving, dry and prickly things that wouldn’t ever blossom.

When he was strong enough to stand, Sokka limped around the shifting landscape. He spent his hours wandering and observing, sometimes watching distant walls of fire burning although it never seemed to destroy anything. He climbed a small mountain once, crags of obsidian clawing out of the ground, and was able to see farther in the distance. 

There were fields to the middle of this strange kingdom, and he swore he could see dots of movement in the fields, as though there were workers. Far to the edge of the landscape, a sea of boiling fire burned, and to the other edge, a sea of purple that seemed much calmer shone in the dim light, dots of land obvious among the mist.

Some time after he descended the mountain, Sokka found himself at the entrance of a massive palace, built of the obsidian rock that loomed here and there. He turned and frowned, studying the way he had come. 

He hadn’t seen the palace until very recently; it hadn’t loomed on the horizon, and it simply materialized when he was about five hundred feet away.

“I hate this place,” Sokka muttered, kicking a loose rock; it shimmered and rolled out into a strange, flat looking creature that glared up at him before skittering away. “Sorry.” Sokka sighed and patted his stomach. 

Something strange occurred to him. “Why aren’t I hungry?”

“Because you don’t need to eat here.”

Sokka shouted (well, screamed might be closer to accurate) at the sudden appearance of Lord Zuko himself.

“La, warn a guy, will you?”

“La.” Zuko seemed to smile, although that could have been a trick of the shimmering air. “I always liked La. She didn’t really like me.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

Zuko was wearing red robes today, and his cloak was gone; his hair was as black as the palace walls, and it was long, pulled back from his face in a top knot. In the center of the knot was a beautiful golden ornament in the shape of a flame.

“I can’t have you kicking my subjects.”

“I didn’t mean to-” Sokka began and then pointed at the spot the weird little creature had appeared. “That thing is a subject?”

“His name is Tybal, and he’s a friend.”

Sokka blinked. “You need to get out more.”

There was an awkward pause, and then there was a rusted noise, like a hinge creaking after disuse. 

Lord Zuko, ruler of the Underworld, was laughing.

“Right.” Sokka laughed too, awkwardly, as he rubbed his neck. “Guess you wouldn’t … right.”

“Sorry. As much as I enjoy my friends, they don’t usually tell jokes.” Zuko composed himself, and his face grew stern once more.

Strangely, Sokka found that he greatly preferred Zuko’s face when it was smiling. He seemed younger. Lighter. Handsomer.

“Where have you been?” Sokka demanded. “I’ve been down here for what, a week?”

“Three.”

“Three weeks?” Sokka smacked his head. “That’s even worse. My sister has to be furious by now.”

“Katara is your sister,” Zuko said, and Sokka realized it was actually a question.

“Yeah, and she’s scary. She’s really going to kick your ass when she finds out you kidnapped me.”

“Again, I didn’t …” Zuko stopped himself and let out a tense breath. “Fine. She can kick my ass. She’ll have to get in line, but. Fine.”

“Who else wants to kick your ass? Have you been kidnapping a lot of people?”

“No. No, there was _one_ time where - but no-”

“Hang on.” A memory dawned on Sokka, from centuries ago. “Didn’t you try to kidnap Aang? You know, this tall,” he held a hand at his mid-chest, “squeaky kind of voice, blue arrows everywhere-”

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose between his elegant fingers. “That was a misunderstanding.”

“You definitely kidnapped him for like ten minutes.”

“I didn’t take him to a secondary location!” Zuko snapped. He held his hands straight like blades as he cut them through the air demonstratively. “I had him here in one place, and I couldn’t get him to where I needed him, or anywhere else! It - I only tried the one time!”

“Why did you try at all?” Sokka laughed, time having mostly erased the anger at the injustice. Even Aang laughed about the story now. “Aang’s little, sure, but he’s a wily kid.”

Zuko folded his hands together, the long sleeves of his robes hiding them. “Trust me. I know.”

Sokka chuckled again, and Zuko smiled for half a second before his face stilled.

“It’s nice to talk to someone,” Sokka admitted. “No wonder I was going crazy - three weeks? I was getting pretty lonely.”

“I know that, too.” Zuko looked sad now, and unlike happiness, grief had no trouble taking root in his expression and staying. “I’m sorry that your time here has been less than pleasant. I’ve been busy, caring for the dead. The mortals are fighting near the Earth Kingdom; a lot of souls have come through.”

“Oh.” Sokka winced. “Is that … hard? Taking care of the dead? Are they … all here? Right now?” Realizing he could be standing in the middle of a sea of ghosts without realizing it, he flapped his hands and shuddered.

“No, they wouldn’t come to the palace unless called.” Zuko turned and watched the landscape, and Sokka felt a tug behind his navel, like he was traveling very fast without moving at all. “Come. I’ll show you.”

Sokka turned and gaped when he realized that they were in front of a large, black river. “Uh. How did-” He turned back and saw that the palace was gone. “What? What did you-”

“The Underworld responds to the living as they see fit. The dead go where they’re told; we can choose where to go. The rules are … different for us.”

“So if I wanted to, I could … snap my fingers and go somewhere?” Sokka considered that idea. “That sounds pretty cool, actually.”

“It is cool. I guess.”

Sokka watched a boat crossing the river, and saw shadows of people standing there. “Hang on. Are those-”

“The dead.” Zuko’s face was impassive. “They’re brought over after they die, and then they go on. Most return to be reborn, others who are satisfied with how they lived their last life go to the fields so they can reunite with loved ones. The bravest and best go to the Ember Islands, and the evil go to Tartarus.”

“And the boat goes from shore to shore?” Sokka eyed it, his mind whirring.

“Don’t try it,” Zuko said, and Sokka scowled, ready to argue or fight, but Zuko held up a thin hand. “No. I’m telling you, what you want is impossible. You’ll fall into the river and forget who you are; you’d even forget to swim. You’ll be stuck down there, with the other souls who’ve fallen.”

Sokka gulped and looked at the river with new eyes; he could see the slips of trapped spirits passing by. 

Zuko continued, “You aren’t dead, and you can’t die, but it would be a fate worse than death.”

“How can I get out?” Sokka asked. “Please, Zuko, I don’t want to be here; I have no idea why you brought me here-”

“I was trying to help you,” Zuko seethed. “I didn’t want this either-”

“Then let me go!” Sokka shouted. The river began to roil in front of them, but neither noticed. “I want to go home, I want to see my sister - please, Zuko, you’re being a jerk!”

“It’s my job to be cruel,” Zuko sneered. “You should know that. You’ve lost people you loved to death.”

“You’re the god of the dead, that doesn’t mean you kill people,” Sokka snapped. “That’s bullshit. If you dragged me down here, you can put me right back up there again!”

Zuko’s face grew eerily still again as he stared out across the now boiling water. “I can get you what you want,” he said quietly. “If you wait for the autumnal equinox.”

“Why?” Sokka demanded. “Why not now?”

“Because that’s when it’s …” Zuko paused, searching for something. “...easiest for you to leave. It will be safe if you leave then.”

“Okay.” Sokka groaned. “It’s been almost a month already, so that’s what, two months, and I’ll be able to leave?”

“Yes. If you swear not to eat or drink anything.”

Sokka blinked. “I can’t eat for two months?”

“Have you been hungry since you arrived?” Zuko challenged. “Have you seen _anything_ safe to eat or drink?”

“...No.”

“If you eat or drink while you’re here, you’ll be trapped here for eternity.” Zuko gripped Sokka’s arm suddenly, tightly, with a fierce look in his eyes. “Promise me you won’t so much as touch any food or a drop of water.”

Sokka swallowed. “I promise.”

“Good.”

“I thought that was a myth,” Sokka said slowly, making Zuko snort derisively.

“Look around you, Sokka.” The world pulled around them slowly, as they shifted through the landscape. “We’re living in a myth.”

They ended up outside the fields Sokka had spotted from the top of the mountain, and after Zuko abruptly explained that the fields looked plain and monotonous to them, while actually being a teeming ecosystem full of villages and towns for normal people to be happy in, he fell silent.

Incredibly silent.

An hour of silence.

“Uh. Are you going to … talk again?” Sokka asked awkwardly when he couldn’t handle it anymore. 

Zuko winced. “Sorry. I’m used to being alone and only having to talk to the ghosts. That’s more of … silent talking, if that makes sense. Emotional connections where they let me know how they’re doing, and I attempt to help.”

“Hang on.” Sokka stopped walking, and Zuko did too, his intact eyebrow lifting in anticipation. Sokka looked around and wet his lip; he didn’t notice Zuko’s eyes track the movement, albeit guiltily. “Uh. Have you been talking to ghosts this whole time?”

“Yes.” Zuko blinked and then winced again. “Sorry. I should have-”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Sokka laughed, knowing that it sounded hysterical. “It’s just. You can see … and talk to … ghosts.”

Zuko rolled his eyes and then waved a hand over his body demonstratively, and Sokka nodded. “Oh. Right. God of death.”

“God of the _dead_!” Zuko snapped. “Death is Her own thing.”

“Ah.” Sokka nodded and twiddled his thumbs before walking again, Zuko falling in stiffly at his side.. “So ...what’s it like to be the … god of something?”

“Exhausting.” Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. “But, it’s my duty. So.” He squinted and eyed Sokka for a moment. “But aren’t you the god of something? You couldn’t be here like this if you weren’t … immortal.”

Sokka shrugged. “I’ve never been killed, even when I should have been, and I’ve been around for at least … five hundred years. But, I’m not the god of anything. Been named the guardians of a few towns I’ve saved.” If he didn’t know better, he would swear Zuko’s mouth twitched. “But, besides fighting, all I’m really good at is fixing things.”

This seemed to amuse Zuko, which made Sokka scowl. “You’re a tinkerer.”

“I guess so.”

“That’s nice.” Zuko strangely didn’t sound condescending; he sounded actually complimentary. Sokka relaxed and smiled back. “As long as you don’t build a machine that tries to kill me in my sleep.”

“Pffbt. My sister might do something like that, but …” Sokka trailed off momentarily. “Wait. You sleep?”

“Everyone sleeps.” Zuko was definitely amused now. “Even the god of the dead. And tinkerers, I’d imagine.”

Sokka considered this. “I haven’t slept since I got here.”

“You must be exhausted.”

With Zuko’s words, suddenly Sokka _did_ feel exhausted; he would have been ignoring it this whole time as he wandered around. He yawned obnoxiously, cringing as his spine cracked and his muscles tensed.

“I a-a-a-am.” Sokka ran a hand along his stubbled jaw tiredly. “Ugh. And I need to shave.” He sniffed and then scowled. “And shower.”

“If you want, I can take you back to the palace. There are more than enough rooms for you to sleep and bathe in.”

Sokka nodded and yawned again. “S-s-s-s-so-o-ounds good. Blech.” 

Zuko chuckled again as he gripped Sokka’s arm.

“You gonna whisk me away, Lord Zuko?” Sokka joked, and Zuko’s fingers twitched where he touched him.

“Something like that.”

“Buy a guy a drink first,” Sokka joked; Zuko didn’t respond, but the world shifted around them once more, and Sokka blinked once, clearing his vision.

When he opened his eyes, he was inside a dark space.

“Uh.”

“Sorry.” Flame erupted nearby, and Sokka flinched before realizing that Zuko was holding a ball of fire in his hand. 

“Stop it, you’re going to burn yourself!” Sokka snapped, reaching out to grab Zuko’s forearm. Zuko held him off and rolled his eyes.

“I’m the keeper of the flame,” Zuko scolded. “The old gods let me keep it after they threw my father in Tartarus.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Zuko muttered to himself as he led Sokka down a dark hallway. “He thinks I can’t touch fire-”

“Zuko?”

“What?” The god of the dead stopped in front of an ornate door and lit the sconces on either side before extinguishing the flame in his hand. Sokka’s eyes remained locked on where the fire had been.

“If you can’t be burned, how did…” He trailed off, realizing how rude his question was.

Zuko stiffened and turned away. “When I was young, I insulted my father. He destroyed half my face as punishment, and cast me out. A group of healers who followed the teachings of my uncle found me and kept me alive.”

“But you’re a god,” Sokka whispered. “You shouldn’t have been able to die. Or scar.”

“It was infernal flame.” Zuko opened the door abruptly and then directed a lick of flame to light a torch inside the room. “It can kill a god.”

“I had no idea.”

“It was a long time ago.” Zuko turned and gestured behind him. “These are your rooms. No one will bother you in here.”

“Good night?” Sokka called after Zuko, but the other man had already vanished down the hallway, where the darkness was too thick to see through.

“Man, that guy is so weird,” Sokka muttered to himself after closing and locking the door. He yawned as he washed his face in a basin made of obsidian and after letting his hair down, he decided he’d bathe in the morning, or whenever he woke up, and crawled into bed.

He slept heavily, and dreamed rarely: 

When he woke, all Sokka could remember was that in his dream, he was trapped in a maze that went on and on, and no matter how hard he called for the person he was searching for, he never found them.

In fact, he woke as he was in the middle of shouting, his body jolting awake, a lingering call of “Zu-” on his lips as he sat bolt upright, rubbing his neck. 

“-ko.”

Sokka blinked and looked around the room. Nothing had changed; not the light, not the lock on the door. He groaned and dragged himself from bed, and after sniffing himself again and retching, started to bathe in the large pool set in the ground of his room.

There was a knock at his door when he pulled himself from the water with shaking muscles. “Ugh.” Sokka managed to wrap his lower half awkwardly in a sheet from the bed. “Who is it?”

“Zuko?”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Sokka sighed and glared out the large window. “Come in.”

“I’ve been waiting to see when you’d wake u-”

Zuko cut off suddenly, and Sokka turned to see what the problem was.

For some reason, Zuko was staring at the nearest wall; his fair cheeks were stained with red, and his hand was curled into a fist, which was noticeably smoking.

“What is it?” Sokka glanced down and realized how little of himself was covered. “Does this bother you?”

“I didn’t think you’d be naked,” Zuko said tightly. “I … apologize.”

“I’m not naked, you can’t see my d-”

If possible, Zuko turned brighter red than before.

“Um. I don’t have … clothes to change into …”

“I’ll find you new clothes.” 

Zuko shifted uncomfortably before his long fingers went to the clasp of his outer robes; he undid the ornate brooch quickly and then pulled the robe from his shoulders. He cleared his throat before crossing the room, his eyes still averted, and extended his arms to Sokka.

Sokka took the robe carefully, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “Uh. Thank you?”

His thanks were met with a small bow by Zuko who turned as Sokka dropped the sheet and pulled on the robes; they were slightly too short for him, but could still wrap around his waist. They were tighter on him than they were on Zuko - now that his outer robes were gone, Sokka could see how slender the lord was.

A slender waist, narrow shoulders, and a lean build that promised hidden, sleek muscles.

Sokka cleared his throat when he realized his examination of Zuko was causing a bodily reaction, and he tied the robe to distract himself.

“How do I look?” He joked, spreading his hands wide.

Zuko’s golden eyes scanned him efficiently. “Good.” Zuko’s voice was hoarse, and Sokka’s own throat felt dry. “I … was going to show you something.”

Sokka followed Zuko from the room, accepting that the other wouldn’t talk readily as they traveled the dark halls; Zuko lit another handful of flame which brightened their path, and Sokka found himself drawing nearer to be in the cone of light it shed. 

They descended a spiral staircase, and after they’d gone downwards for quite some time, Zuko spoke at last.

“There’s a room down here that I think might interest you.”

“A crypt?” Sokka muttered, scowling at the dark walls around them.

“No. But, if the location of the room bothers you, I can easily move the contents closer to the surface.”

Sokka shrugged. “I guess we’re … underground all the time here anyway.”

Zuko laughed at that, and they reached level ground at roughly the same time. 

“We aren’t underground, actually. It’s more of a … different world. A separate plane.”

“Like the Spirit World?”

“Yes.” Zuko led Sokka down a shorter hallway. “So, I wasn’t lying when I said you weren’t far from where you fell: we … slipped through a crack in your plane of existence.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel any better.”

“The truth isn’t designed to do that,” Zuko pointed out dryly, and Sokka stuck his tongue out at his back. “I saw that.”

“What? Really?”

Another creaking, rusted noise: Zuko was laughing again. “No. The ghost in front of me told me you stuck your tongue out.”

“Spies!” Sokka squinted into the darkness, frowning, but that only made Zuko laugh harder.

They reached a door, which opened on its own (or, not its own), and Zuko gestured into a large, cavernous room. 

“You can … um, you can spend time here. If you want. It might distract you.”

Sokka walked in, eyes wide, to discover a vast workshop with abandoned inventions, tools scattered on the floor, and walls of books on the opposite end of the room.

“What is this place?”

“When the original smiths were born, they worked here for a time before moving to the mountains. These were their rooms.”

Sokka walked down the steps to the first bench and picked up a contraption made of gears and metal. 

“You can come here whenever you want; I can also have these benches brought to your wing of the palace … if it would be easier for you.”

“No, I think I’d like the walk.” Sokka didn’t look up from the invention in his hands, turning it around in a variety of ways until he realized its purpose. “Oh, cool! It’s a drill!”

“I’m glad someone will find this place of use.” 

“Thanks, Zuko.” Sokka looked up with a real smile, and he saw Zuko turn red before he bowed and took a step back into the shadow of the hallway -

And vanished.

“Well, that wasn’t weird at all,” Sokka muttered. “My name is Zuko, and I’m an all-powerful god who doesn’t know how to say goodbye like a normal person.”

There was a light breeze against his shoulder, like someone invisible had moved … or laughed.

“Oh great, at least ghosts like my jokes.” Sokka sighed and grabbed a screwdriver, spinning it in his hand. “Alright, let’s fix you, Mr. Drill.”

* * *

Seven weeks after Sokka vanished, Aang and Katara arrived at a place usually forbidden to young gods.

The Sisters wove their tapestry, whispering to each other in their language, and as Katara approached their dais, Aang hung back with a worried frown, still holding the glider that had carried them to this hidden place.

“Speak,” the first Sister said.

“My name is Katara. I want to ask about the Fate of another.”

“Not your own?” the second Sister hissed.

“Unusual,” her Sister agreed.

“My brother. We can’t find him anywhere-”

“Sokka,” the first Sister murmured, spinning the wheel. “Sokka, yes?”

“Oh yes, Sokka,” her Sister echoed.

“Where is he?” Katara demanded.

“Nowhere,” was her answer.

Aang watched as the wisps of mist curled around Katara in her rage. “Is he dead?”

“No.”

“He’s _with_ the dead.”

“How can he be with the dead if he isn’t dead?” Aang could hear the tears in Katara’s voice. “Tell me where he is!”

“In the Underworld,” the first Sister replied, stroking her hands through the massive tapestry behind them. 

Aang’s breath caught with anxiety, and Katara didn’t relax in the least.

“His thread of Fate tangled,” the second Sister reported, pointing to a knot in the tapestry.

“With the god of the dead himself.”

“Zuko?” Aang asked, blinking in surprise. “Why would Zuko-”

“How do I get him back?” Katara shouted.

“Tangled forever,” the first Sister said.

“Trapped,” agreed her Sister.

“Cursed,” they said together.

“Sokka is cursed?” Katara asked. No answer. “Zuko stole him?”

“We answered your questions three,” the Sisters said together. 

“Wait-”

They dissolved into mist, laughing with a terrible echo as they faded from view.

“Why would Zuko kidnap my brother?” Katara asked tearfully, rounding on Aang.

“Uh. I don’t know. His dad asked him to kidnap me, but that was … like, a millenium ago.” Aang tapped his fingers against his glider. “And, Zuko was … really nice, actually.”

“Aang, he kidnapped you!” 

“Well, sort of, he never actually brought me anywh-”

“And now he’s stolen my brother.” Katara ignored Aang and her hands curled into fists once more. “We’re going to find them, and force Zuko to let him go.”

“Tangled threads sounded pretty … final,” Aang pointed out hesitantly, but Katara wouldn’t hear of it.

Not when she finally had a target for her anger.

* * *

Sokka enjoyed his work in the room full of broken inventions; he rebuilt the drill, set the wheels right on a mechanized cart, and welded some old pieces together until he had something he was sure would function as an accurate time piece when he was out in a world that let him mark time.

He didn’t know how to judge time passing still, except by Zuko’s visits.

At the end of Zuko’s day - whatever that meant - of helping to bring people where they belonged, and watching over the entrance to the Underworld, he would come to the invention room and sit on the steps as regally as he did his obsidian throne. Then, Sokka would excitedly explain any and all inventions he’d worked on that day as he sat, sprawled out on the floor with bits and pieces of metal and wood surrounding him.

“And this is a water purifier,” Sokka explained one day-evening-morning-whenever. “A lot of mortals get sick drinking water that’s been sitting around, and with this filter,” he flipped the purifier over so Zuko could see inside it, “and with this sort of … compartment to store a candle, the water can get heated and cleaned so no one gets sick anymore.”

Zuko smiled at him, his head resting on the bannister of the steps. “That’s incredible, Sokka.”

“Yeah! I don’t know who was trying to build it before, but-”

“My uncle.”

Sokka paused. “...your uncle? Uh. Which … uncle?”

“Iroh.” Zuko adjusted his robes slightly and stared out across the room; Sokka could see tears glittering in his golden eyes, illuminated by the torchlight. “He … he was probably trying to build a tea kettle.”

“Oh yeah, I found some of those too.” Sokka set the water purifier down on a bench and looked up at Zuko, whose face was still shadowed by sadness. “Where’s your uncle?” Zuko said nothing. “...I know he didn’t take your father’s side in the war, but-”

“Excuse me. I’m needed at the gates.” Zuko stood, his robes draping over his frame once more, and swept up the stairs, melting into shadow.

There was no doubt about it: Zuko had been weeping in the moments before he disappeared; and, it was definitely Sokka’s fault.

Sokka sighed and picked up the projector he’d been working on; with a light source and a moving set of carvings, it might be able to play a story on the wall. Honestly, he’d wanted to show that to Zuko even more than the water purifier; from past conversations, he’d gleaned that Zuko loved the theater (and had privately hoped that he’d be the patron of it one day before he’d been thrown down here to do his actual job).

He turned the lens towards him and muttered into it: “Well, that could have gone better.”

“You’re right Sokka, you could have been more sensitive,” he said in a squeaky voice, shaking the projector back and forth at himself.

Groaning, he sprawled out on his back, the projector clanking to the floor. “What is wrong with me?”

* * *

He didn’t see Zuko for what felt like longer than a regular interval after that; it was when he walked outside the palace that he saw the lord of the underworld again.

Sokka had walked for some time and finally arrived at the purple sea he had watched from the mountain weeks ago.As he walked along the ashen beach, curls of water fanning out across the dark sand, he spotted Zuko in the distance.

That day, he only wore a simple tunic over leggings; his hair was down around his face, and his eyes were fixed on some distant point that was invisible inside the clouds of mist that hung low over the strange sea.

“Zuko?” Sokka called out as he approached, hoping he wouldn't startle the god by accident.

“Hello, Sokka.” Zuko didn’t move to greet him, but that also meant he didn’t run away.

Sokka walked up until he was shoulder to shoulder with Zuko, and he stood and looked out across the sea as well. After a few moments of silence, he bumped Zuko’s elbow with his own. “So. What are we looking at?”

“The Ember Islands.”

“Uh.” Sokka squinted. “I just see a lot of … mist.”

“Me too,” Zuko admitted. “It’s … the only part of this place I can’t see, or visit.”

“Why’s that?” 

“You ask a lot of questions,” Zuko muttered, sounding irate, and Sokka looked away, slightly wounded. Then, Zuko sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why … well. I do. It’s a punishment.”

“Punishment?” Sokka echoed.

“Yes. As though the rest of it weren’t enough - after my uncle refused to join my father in war, a terrible trick was played on him, and his half-mortal son was murdered. Iroh in his grief did not see my father’s lies, and he became mortal.”

There was something heavier than anger, heavier than grief, in Zuko’s voice.

“He died.”

“Your father killed him?” Sokka guessed, wincing at the awfulness of a person killing their own brother.

“No. Old age did.” Zuko gestured out across the mist. “He was beloved by the old gods, and by the mortals; he lived bravely and practiced kindness. Made amends for his wrongs. He was offered a place on the Ember Islands, where only the best mortals are allowed to rest forever. I’m told it’s … lovely there.”

“And you can’t go? Even though it’s part of your kingdom?”

“Right.” Zuko’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, really, Sokka realized how close in age they seemed.

It occurred to him that he did not know how young Zuko was in comparison to the universe and the old gods. 

“That’s really terrible, Zuko. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. My uncle should be happy there; I was assured that Lu Ten arrived before he did, and that his mortal wife who gave birth to Lu Ten is there as well. Iroh is at peace.” Zuko turned and looked inland.

His scar was facing Sokka now, and the curtain of his hair half-hid the awful mark. Not awful, Sokka thought. Distinctive. 

The only awful thing was to think how it might have happened.

Without thinking, he reached out to move Zuko’s hair from his face; Zuko caught his wrist when his fingers were an inch away, and his eyes looked like those of a trapped animal when Sokka gently twisted his wrist free and pushed his hair back behind his ruined ear.

“Sorry.” Sokka cleared his throat and let his fingers trail through the silk strands until he reached the end. “I … didn’t want to frighten you.”

“You didn’t.” 

Sokka pulled his hand away slowly.

“Is there anyone else here that you … know?” Sokka asked slowly. “I can’t be the only person you talk to-”

“I talk to my subjects, and the attendants, and my dragon, Druk.”

“And no one else?”

Zuko smiled sadly as he met Sokka’s eyes. “Who else would talk to me?”

After a painful moment, Zuko looked back towards the sea, and they stood shoulder to shoulder again, this time with no space between them.

“My mother is here,” Zuko said softly over the lull of the dark waves.

“Out there?” Sokka pointed, but Zuko grabbed his wrist and moved his hand until his arm bent backwards, pointing back inland.

“In the fields.” With a tug, Zuko pulled Sokka through the Underworld, until their feet landed on the soft ground near the eerily still fields where the decent souls found their rest.

Sokka frowned at the seemingly endless stalks of grass in front of them.

“Was your mother mortal?”

“She chose to become mortal.” Zuko took his time releasing Sokka’s wrist, and a soft heat lingered on Sokka’s skin after he did remove his long fingers. “My father offered her a choice when he was trying to find ways to kill my uncle: she could test the process to remove immortality … or I could.”

“What?” Sokka whispered. Zuko stood as still as a marble statue, his eyes downcast. “Zuko, how old were you?”

“A child. I barely remember her.” Zuko shook his head sadly. “My sister heard the story from my father and was pleased to tell me.”

He sighed through his nose. “But, Ursa was reborn when she lost her immortality; she received a new face, a new life. She fell in love with a good man, and when they were killed in a rockslide, they chose to live together in the fields rather than restart the cycle. I’m told she’s … happy. She didn’t remember me the few times I’ve visited her, but … she’s happy.”

“And what about you?” Sokka asked softly when it was clear Zuko would speak no more; he fixed his eyes on the fields so that Zuko wouldn’t shy away under his gaze.

“What about me.” It barely sounded like a question.

“Are you … happy?”

Zuko was quiet for so long, Sokka half-expected to turn away from the sea of grass in front of them and find that he had left. But, after a minute, Zuko spoke.

“My happiness doesn’t matter.”

For some reason, that didn’t sit right with Sokka.

“Yes it does.” Sokka turned around, ready to argue, but froze with his finger in the air when he saw that Zuko had faded into the shadows of the golden trees behind them, gone to who knew where.

“I _hate_ it when he does that,” Sokka muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest and scowling at the peaceful fields.

* * *

After weeks of searching, Katara and Aang found themselves in a forest that stretched on for miles; dark moss grew underfoot, and vines twisted thick as trunks between the trees.

“Katara, why do you think this place is the entrance to the Underworld?” Aang twitched away from a large spider. “This is … just a really creepy forest. Like. The creepiest.”

“Why wouldn’t the darkest place be the entrance?” Katara snapped, using water to cut through a vine in front of them. “It has to be _somewhere,_ and you don’t have to come with me anymore if you’re getting bored of searching for my brother!”

“Sokka’s my best friend, Katara. Of course I want to find him.” Aang sighed and followed Katara through the undergrowth. He eyed a yellowing plant with a frown. “Don’t you think we should … pause eventually? It hasn’t rained in a month.”

“It will rain when I find Sokka!” 

Unbeknownst to either, they were being followed; and they had been followed for over a week.

A figure with a cruel smile and a small frame slipped between the trees, silent as the wind that carried Aang on spring days.

At last, when Katara crouched in front of a cave and shouted in frustration when a swarm of bats flew out, the figure finally stepped out into the clearing, her hood drawn and face hidden.

“Hello, dears.” She spoke in a creaky old voice that feigned age; but, if they were to look inside her hood, they would discover she had a youthful, beautiful face - albeit a cruel beauty.

“Oh.” Aang stood up straight and smiled at her. “Hello!”

Katara moved slower, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I hope you don’t mind.” The woman stepped forward. “But I heard you as I gathered mushrooms in the forest; why would two young people be so interested in the Underworld?”

“Because the lord of the Underworld-” Aang began, and stopped when Katara shot him a look. “Uh.”

Of course, the woman already _knew_ what they were looking for, but she hid her smile from her voice.

“The lord of the Underworld… Zulo?”

“Zuko,” Katara corrected crossly. “He’s taken … he stole …”

“He kidnapped her brother,” Aang finished awkwardly when Katara’s anger wouldn’t let her say it.

“Your brother?” The woman put a hand to her chest in feigned horror. “When did this happen, you poor dear?”

Katara wilted. “Almost two and a half months ago.”

The woman tsked. “So the rumors are true.”

Aang and Katara looked at each other, and then at the woman they thought was an elder. “Excuse me, but … what rumors?” Aang asked, rubbing his arm nervously.

“That the lord of the dead only walks the earth at the change of the seasons.” The woman smirked, but they didn’t see. “There are legends that he arrives to cause destruction while the mortals celebrate the shifting sun, out of sheer jealousy and spite.”

“That doesn't sound like Zuko,” Aang said, frowning. “It sounds more like his-”

“Aang! Zuko literally kidnapped my brother! He could be torturing him _right now_ for all we know-”

“-why would he want to torture him? It doesn’t make any sense!”

The woman watched them argue, a wicked grin crossing her disguised face.

“Well, the autumnal equinox is in two weeks,” the woman said calmly, distracting the bickering friends. “It would be so easy to find him then; he always emerges in the same place, at the center of the world. Of course, there’s the matter of … getting him to give you your brother back.”

“I’ll fight him,” Katara declared coldly. “I’m going to drown him where he stands.”

“I like your spirit,” the woman said, an edge of cruelty appearing. “But … no, he’s immortal. He can’t be killed by even your power. No, no, you’d need something to … immobilize him. Then you can sneak into the Underworld and find your brother.”

“The Fates said your brother was tangled with Zuko forever, Katara,” Aang said quietly. “I’m sorry, but-”

“What if you could sever the connection?” The woman asked, saccharine sweet. “What if there was something so strong, it would take Zuko down for _years and years_? That would be long enough to find a way to save your brother from a terrible Fate.”

Katara frowned. “What did you have in mind?”

The woman put a hand inside her robes and pulled out a bag that had been tied shut. “This will stop even the god of the dead - point the bag and open it, and he’ll no longer be a threat to your family.”

“I don’t know Katara,” Aang whispered as his friend walked towards the woman, hand outstretched.

“Oh Katara, you have to try _something,_ ” the woman said. “I remember when I lost my brother. I was … absolutely devastated to be separated from him.”

“Yes.” Katara took the bag gently and held it in her hand; it was strangely hot to the touch, and felt as though it were moving in her palm. 

“Don’t open it,” the woman warned, “Not until you see Zuko and can fully aim it at him. You will only have one chance to take him down if you want to save your brother.”

“Okay,” Katara said, nodding. “Thank you.”

“Of course, my dear. I wish you nothing but the best luck.” The woman waved as Aang and Katara hurried from the forest and its dark shade; when they were out of earshot, she laughed cruelly and lowered her hood, her dark gold eyes flashing unnaturally.

Azula, goddess of chaos and destruction, was pleased that the pieces of her plan were falling together quite nicely.

* * *

There was a knock at his door, and Sokka looked up from the machine he was tinkering with. 

“Uh. Yes?”

The door opened slowly, and Zuko walked in, head bowed. “Sokka.”

“That’s me.” Sokka slid off the bed and stood up awkwardly. “Is something wrong?”

Zuko looked up at last; Sokka shivered in the intensity of Zuko’s gaze. It felt like physical touch, scorching through him. Zuko shook his head slowly.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He sounded like he didn’t believe himself. “I - do you know what today is?”

“Tuesday?” Sokka shrugged with a grin. “Zuko, I never know what day it is down here.”

“That’s true.” Zuko’s mouth twitched humorlessly. “I apologize I haven’t been more … forthcoming about the passage of time. I thought it might help to distract you if you weren’t … counting down.”

“Yeah, time’s gone pretty quickly. I think.” Sokka smiled, nervous when Zuko didn’t smile back. “What?”

“Tomorrow is the autumnal equinox.” Zuko looked outside the window of Sokka’s room, his eyes a thousand miles away.

Sokka’s heart skipped a beat. “Really?” He bounced on his feet. “That’s amazing, I can go home! Right?” He faltered when Zuko’s expression didn’t change.

“Right.” Zuko tilted his head at him. “You can bring … whatever you want with you. We’ll leave soon so we can travel back to your plane. I’ll leave you to prepare.”

And with that he was gone.

Sokka frowned but then smiled and laughed; he searched through the room, grabbing his boomerang, his knife, and the discarded furs he’d left when he came here. He didn’t know whether ot not to bring the fine, silk garments Zuko had made for him, and thought better of it - perhaps Zuko would have another visitor/prisoner one day and they might want to wear it.

He laughed at the thought for a second before frowning. Somehow, the thought of Zuko giving gifts freely to someone else who stayed here for a season didn’t sit right with him.

Shrugging, he grabbed a bag, checked his reflection in the mirror and winked at himself. “Let’s go home,” he whispered.

There was a strange shiver of sadness as he closed his door; thinking to the invisible attendants who roamed the halls of the palace, Sokka cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said to the empty hallway. “Thanks a lot. And … would you take care of him?” He rubbed his neck. “Zuko, I mean. Make sure he doesn’t get too lonely.”

As he walked to the front hall, Sokka realized that he did actually want to bring something with him; or really, a somebody.

But Zuko was so attached to his work; he’d never taken a day off since Sokka arrived, and would often disappear mid-conversation to see to an issue in his kingdom. He worked endlessly, cared deeply for those in his care, and only spoke of the future in terms of his job as keeper of the dead.

It would be foolish for Sokka to ask him to stay in the real world. 

“Are you ready?” Zuko asked, standing at the gates with his hands folded behind his back; he wore heavy, formal robes, and his top knot was once again adorned with his crown of fire.

“You bet, Fire Guy.” Sokka took Zuko’s extended hand, grinning excitedly; his smile faltered when Zuko did nothing but look at their clasped hands for a moment. “Zuko?”

“I apologize. My mind is elsewhere. We’ll have to travel to Druk, who will let us pass.”

Sokka was more than used to the strange whoosh of movement around them now; he felt strangely sad knowing it was the last time he’d ever feel it. Then, the sadness was kicked clear out of his mind when he realized where they landed.

“Uh.” Sokka’s eyes widened painfully as he took in the sight of a massive dragon. “Hello?”

The dragon growled and took a step in front of the ornate, wrought iron gates, shrouded in mist at the edge of Zuko’s kingdom.

“Easy, Druk. He isn’t an escapee.” Zuko sounded amused at last, that dry tone Sokka had grown so fond of creeping in. “It’s the equinox.” He patted Druk’s nose when the dragon lowered his head to the god, and Sokka _swore_ Zuko said in a quiet undertone: “Yeah. I’m going to miss him.”

“Zuko?”

Druk rumbled and stood up to his towering height, stepping aside so they could pass through. Zuko didn’t look at Sokka as he walked forward purposefully, and Sokka looked up at the dragon when he passed. Druk’s massive golden eyes were painfully familiar, and terribly sad.

“Your eyes are the same color,” Sokka pointed out as they crossed through the gate. The air felt lighter suddenly, and he breathed in deeply, relishing the lack of humidity. “You and the dragon.”

“Druk keeps a flame as well; the gold is a reflection of our ability to summon it.” Zuko shrugged and gestured to a massive, winding staircase. “If we want to arrive by tomorrow, we should start climbing.”

Sokka groaned but complied; eventually, he started to tell Zuko stories about his childhood and his sister, about the pranks he and Aang played on each other, about his eagerness to tell Toph that he had collected three pieces of the elements on his travels before he fell.

“But what did you find of fire?” Zuko asked, half-turning on the narrow staircase to smirk at him. 

“Nothing.” Sokka wilted slightly with a sigh. “Although I doubt _she_ could find anything either.”

“If I’d known of this silly bet sooner, I could have given you one of Druk’s scales.” Zuko began to climb again. “There isn’t anything that represents fire better than a dragon.”

“That’s true,” Sokka said before tapping Zuko’s shoulder. “Although there _is_ that.”

“There’s what?” Zuko glanced at him and then saw what he was pointing at. “Oh. This old thing.” He slid the crown out of place, loosening his top knot so his hair cascaded around his shoulders. 

Zuko weighed it in his hand for a long moment before extending it to Sokka. “You should keep it.”

“What?” Sokka took a half-step down. “No, Zuko. It’s yours, and it’s - you’re the king down here.”

“There’s no point in wearing a crown that no one cares about. My grandfather made it, and my father took it from him, and the gods took it from my father and put it on my head. I don’t have much use for it.” Zuko took Sokka’s hand and pressed the ornament into his palm. “Show it to your friend Toph. Think about me when you’re at the top of that mountain.”

“I will.” Sokka promised, curling his fingers over the crown; his throat felt oddly thick. “You should … you could climb with us! And you could see how this boomerang _really_ flies when there’s actual wind to carry it!”

“That would be nice.” Zuko walked forward again, and Sokka tripped up the stairs after him. 

The air hit Sokka in a cool wave all at once; he blinked and shielded his eyes from the intense brightness.

“What is that?” He muttered.

“The sun.” Zuko stopped and looked upwards. “Well. The sunrise.”

They’d arrived without warning in a rocky open space; Sokka looked behind them and saw that they had walked out from what looked like a cave. He blinked, and the staircase they had just climbed vanished, leaving no trace.

“Uh-”

“We’re at the center of the world.” Zuko smiled as he looked around. “Near where you fell.”

“Over there!” Sokka laughed and pointed in the distance. “You really carried me all the way here?”

“Not exactly.” Zuko didn’t explain, but he turned north. “There’s a river up there, a forest to the west; and, a field to the east. Where would you like to go?”

“Field,” Sokka said with a grin. “I really missed flowers.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of person who likes flowers,” Zuko commented as they walked away from the entrance (or was it more of an exit?) to the Underworld.

“Are you kidding me? I love ‘em.” Sokka sighed. “Delicious, sweet, happy flowers.”

When they arrived, Sokka didn’t hesitate; he cartwheeled into a patch of daisies and came up sneezing. Zuko laughed, louder than normal, as he settled himself on a rock and watched.

Sokka sighed happily, curling his fingers into dandelions, and when he blew the spores out, sneezing again, Zuko coughed and swatted at the floating flecks as they passed him.

“Ugh. It’s too bright up here,” he said grumpily. Some dandelion fluff caught in his long hair, and Sokka grinned and tumbled to his feet.

“Come here, Lord Zuko.” He laughed as he walked towards him. “You look ridiculous.” 

Zuko didn’t flinch this time when Sokka reached for his hair; he sat very, very still though, and Sokka spent longer time than strictly necessary combing out the dandelion fluff with his fingers. Zuko didn’t question him, but he stared at a spot on Sokka’s chest, barely breathing as Sokka stood between his legs and pulled out the spores.

“There.” Sokka patted Zuko’s hair, which had been clean of all fluff for at least ten seconds. “All better.”

“Really.” Zuko’s eyes flashed in the sun as he looked up at Sokka, who swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“Much more kingly.”

“You don’t say.”

Sokka had stuffed some daisies in his pocket when he dove into the field; he took them and tucked two behind Zuko’s scarred ear, in the hair that was now pushed out of his face. 

“What are you doing?” Zuko asked, his voice hoarse.

“You need a new crown.” Sokka shrugged, feeling his face heat up. He refused to stop though, and continued to place flowers in Zuko’s black hair. “Better.”

Slowly, Zuko reached up to touch a blossom delicately, and he smiled at Sokka with a sadness too deep for anyone to see the bottom of. Sokka’s heart clenched, not understanding the reason for the sadness.

“I should go,” Zuko said, eyeing the sun over Sokka’s shoulders. “I’ve … stayed too long.”

“What?” Sokka took a step back as Zuko rose. “Well … is that it then? That’s goodbye?”

“Yes.” Zuko’s hands curled into fists as he offered Sokka another tight smile. “It’s goodbye.”

“No way. I’ll be back to visit you,” Sokka promised firmly. “Really soon - like, next week, probably when Toph doesn’t believe that the crown is yours.”

“Sokka.” Zuko’s hands uncurled then re-curled; Sokka watched Zuko struggle with something unseen. “You can’t ever come back.”

“What? Are you - are you banishing me?”

Zuko’s lip twitched into a snarl. “I’d never do that.”

“Then I’ll be back.”

“That isn’t how the Underworld works, Sokka.” Zuko turned and walked through the thin line of trees that ringed the field, obviously accepting that Sokka was going to follow him. “That isn’t how any of this works.”

“Um, what do you mean? Is this about how we had to wait for the equinox because it wasn’t safe, or whatever? We can find a way to fix that.”

“You can’t fix this, Sokka!” Zuko turned when they were in the open, and the sun beat down on them; Sokka, whose eyes still burned from the shift in light, shielded his face to scowl at Zuko. 

“I can sure as hell try!”

“You can’t.” Zuko slumped and shook his head. “You’d try, and you’d fail. There isn’t a way to fix this.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so damn cryptic all the time-”

“I’m cursed, Sokka.” Zuko wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Sokka took a step forward, his question lost under Zuko’s harsh tone. “I’m cursed - I can only leave at the change of the seasons, and you never should have been able to get in. You never should have come with me. It was a mistake.”

Sokka tried to process this. “You - I thought you … did it on purpose.”

“I told you, I didn’t want to kidnap you!” Zuko shouted, and the nearby blades of grass singed with a sudden rush of heat. “It was an accident; you were hurt, and I didn’t know you were immortal. I was trying to help you, but then - then the sun-” Zuko gestured up at the sun angrily and stopped talking. He turned his head to the side and took a deep, shaky breath. “When the sun passes the midpoint in the sky, I go back. I don’t control it; I only come up here because I miss the air. I miss water. I miss the sun. I miss _people,_ living, breathing people. You - I was holding you when it happened. I had no idea I was going to drag you down there with me.”

“You never said.” Sokka’s voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Zuko, why didn’t you tell me?”

“So you could call me a liar?” Zuko laughed hollowly. “It didn’t matter. You would have hated me either way.”

Sokka took a step forward and gripped Zuko’s arm, shaking him slightly. “I don’t hate you.” Zuko scoffed, so Sokka gentled his voice as much as he could. “Zuko, I could never hate you.”

“Thanks.” Zuko’s smile didn’t reach his glorious eyes, and Sokka felt old wounds stirring in his heart, scar tissue that hadn’t been touched since Yue ascended and left him. “It’s - it’s better this way, Sokka. Otherwise, you’d see what they all see.” Zuko gripped his other arm, and they looked at each other quietly. 

“Maybe I’ll see you on the shortest day,” Zuko whispered sadly; he released Sokka and pulled away. “If you don’t show up, that’s … that’s okay too.”

“No.” Sokka followed Zuko and tugged his elbow again, harshly. “No, this isn’t right. I’m going back with you.”

“Sokka, you’re free to go-”

“How can I be free up here knowing you’re trapped down there?”

“Sokka, please - even if you … found a way to fix it, I can’t abandon the dead. I’ll have to stay with them. They’re my people-”

“They can find someone else to do the job,” Sokka gripped him tighter. “You’re my people now, too, Zuko. Isn’t that enough?”

Zuko opened his mouth, a shadow crossing his face - but then panic shoved it clear away. “Get behind me,” he ordered, pushing Sokka behind him.

“What?”

The earth shook under their feet, and a chasm yawned open between them. “What’s happening?” Sokka shouted to Zuko, whose hands lit with bright orange flame as he looked around anxiously. 

“Sokka, stay down!” Zuko shouted.

“Get away from him!” A girl’s voice called out.

Sokka frowned. “Katara?”

His sister leapt into view, out of thin air - Aang wasn’t far behind. 

“Katara, how long have you been there?”

“We’ve been searching for you for three months.” Katara scowled at Zuko, pulling water from the nearby grass. “And you’re going to let my brother go _now_.”

“That’s fine with me,” Zuko snapped, “I brought him up here, didn’t I?”

“Katara, he has a point,” Aang whispered loudly, tugging on Katara’s sleeve. She ripped her arm away from him and lowered herself further into a fighting stance. Sokka was distracted from the conflict by another rumbling noise.

“How ya doing, Snoozles?” Toph asked, exploding into view from the bottom of the fake chasm. 

“Hey Toph. Could you, uh, explain to my sister that Zuko doesn’t want to hurt anyone?”

“Huh?” Toph frowned. “I don’t know if … that’s going to be possible.”

“Free my brother from the curse!” Katara was shouting.

“What?” Sokka shouted, trying to distract his sister. “Katara, you’re all wrong - Zuko’s cursed, not me!”

“The Fates showed us - you did something to him when you trapped him down there!” Katara was holding a bag in front of her, and while Zuko had been more or less irritated before, now he looked downright terrifying.

“You don’t know what that is, Katara,” the god of the dead said urgently. “Please put it down before you hurt someone!”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you!” Katara gripped the string that pulled it shut. “Let my brother go, and then I’ll drop it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Zuko glanced around wildly and then pointed at Sokka. “Sokka, get down, please!”

“Katara, maybe you should listen to-” Aang was immediately ignored by a furious Katara.

She pulled the string, and all hell quite literally broke loose.

Sokka cursed as he dove to cover Toph, whose vision through her feet could in no way catch the blaze of lightning that erupted from Katara’s bag. He covered his small friend’s face and turned his own away from the white-blue explosion.

When the sound of shattering air finally stopped, leaving behind a smell of ozone, Sokka looked up to see a dazed Katara clutching Aang, who lowered the shield of wind around them.

Zuko lay on the ground, twitching.

“Zuko!” Sokka shouted, jumping to his feet; he didn’t think or stop for a moment before jumping over the five foot chasm Toph had opened. He slid on his knees to the side of Zuko’s body. “Zuko, no! No, no, no-” 

The god of the dead didn’t respond; flickers of lightning slipped from his fingertips and his robes were singed and smoking, ripped apart to reveal a crater-like burn in the middle of his chest.

“What did you do?” Sokka demanded of Katara, tears in his voice. “What the hell was that?”

“You’re free now, Sokka!” Katara said, looking terrified and confused. “Come on, we need to run!”

“I’m not leaving him!” Sokka snapped, hauling Zuko’s body into his lap. He cupped his cheek and ran a thumb along the perfect cheekbone on the right side of his face. “Zuko, wake up! Wake up, come on-”

“Sokka?” Aang knelt close to them, and Sokka sniffed and tugged Zuko further into his lap. “Sokka, he won’t die-”

“You don’t know that,” Sokka sobbed. “You don’t know what that was - gods can die, Zuko told me!”

“Who gave you that bag of tricks, Sugar Queen?” Toph asked dazedly as she brought the halves of ground together.

“Some old woman in the woods, I - I don’t know her name.” Katara threw the bag away from her, and Sokka didn’t even look up. 

He shook Zuko angrily, shouting his name, and Aang tried to pull him away.

“Stop it!” Sokka shouted. “Leave us alone!”

“Sokka, we need to leave right now-”

“S-s-s-” 

Sokka looked down at the weak hiss from Zuko, and pushed his long hair from his face. “Zuko?”

“Sokka.” Zuko smiled at him, his good eye barely open as he looked up at him. A trembling hand reached up to lightly touch Sokka’s jaw before he collapsed and began to seize again. 

“Seriously Katara, what was in that?” Aang asked, horrified now.

Sokka opened his mouth to ask much the same question, but at that precise moment, the sun shifted overhead, passing the middle of the sky over the center of the world.

There was a rush of air in Sokka’s ears as he was pulled downwards and backwards, as the earth swallowed them whole and spat them back out. Not knowing what else to do, Sokka held Zuko’s body tightly to his own and closed his eyes.

Coughing weakly after the movement stopped, Sokka looked up and saw that they were once again in the Underworld. The sun shone distantly overhead, and the ground pulsed with a comforting familiarity. 

“Zuko, you’re home.” Sokka laid him down carefully and shook his shoulder. “C’mon Zuko, we - we’re safe now, we’re home-”

No response.

“Help him.” Sokka wiped his nose and looked around desperately. “Someone help us!”

There was no one there. Sokka dropped his head to Zuko’s chest and wept angrily as they sat abandoned at the bottom of the world. As he cried, Sokka became aware of whispers around him, catching and disappearing through the stifling air.

He sniffed and lifted his head, his hands still gripping Zuko’s robes tightly. “Who’s there?” 

More whispers.

“Help him,” Sokka pleaded. “He’s your lord, you have to - please help him.”

There was a slight tug on his arm, and Sokka released Zuko.

He regretted it immediately when Zuko faded from view. 

With a shout, Sokka leapt to his feet and searched the nearby area frantically, but there was no sign of the god of the dead.

There was only an infinite landscape that shifted around him, dry whispers that wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak he couldn’t cast off.

Sokka was alone again.

* * *

Unsure of what else to do, Sokka found his way back to the palace. Although Zuko really only appeared at Sokka’s door and in his workroom, the halls still felt empty with Zuko missing.

He returned to his work with the abandoned inventions, and he found himself constructing lightning rods and machines that would run with enough heat. There was nothing to do when his eyes grew tired, no one to talk to when he buried his head in his arms and fought back tears.

Zuko was gone, and Sokka was alone down here.

The whispers were still there, and sometimes Sokka swore he could see the imprint of something lingering in the corner of the workroom, in the corner of his room. Eventually, he stopped returning to his room, and remained working at his bench, jamming tools into crevices while muttering to himself, wondering when he’d get an answer for where the god of the dead had gone.

 _He isn’t dead._ He would tell himself on a loop. _He can’t die. Zuko can’t die. He can’t. Zuko’s alive._

It must have been days that he worked without stopping because he collapsed at the bench without warning like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The world rolled into total darkness, and Sokka fell on the floor. Before his head could hit stone, something like wind cradled him and lifted him, even as he fell through unconsciousness.

When he woke, he was on the sofa in his bedroom, limbs sprawled and head aching. Sokka sat up, holding his head with a groan. “Couldn’t make it to the bed, huh?” He asked, rubbing a crick in his neck.

Turning to the bed, he nearly jumped out of his skin:

Zuko was there, under the covers, his skin a deathly pale color with rings of purple under his closed eyes.

But, he was breathing.

Sokka stood quickly and crossed the floor, forgetting his own aches and pains as he sat on the edge of the bed and put a hand to Zuko’s right cheekbone. His skin was still warm, and his breath washed over Sokka’s palm.

“Zuko?” Sokka whispered, waiting for him to respond. When he didn’t, Sokka shrugged and adjusted the blankets over the sleeping god, smiling to himself.

It was strange: Sokka couldn’t ever recall such a powerful feeling of relief in his entire life. It consumed him like a tidal wave, washing out almost every other emotion he possessed. Zuko was here, alive and sleeping and in his bed - Zuko was alive.

The intensity of his relief didn’t frighten him or overwhelm him though. If anything, Sokka had never felt more calm in his life. He folded his hands and smiled at his linked fingers before turning his eyes back on Zuko’s sleeping face.

“See you soon, buddy,” Sokka whispered. He returned to the sofa across the room and curled up, watching Zuko sleep until his own eyes slipped shut.

* * *

“Sokka?”

Zuko’s weak voice dragged him from sleep immediately.

“Zuko.” He was at the bedside in seconds. “What is it? What do you need?”

“How are you here?” Zuko whispered. “Am I - Am I dreaming again?”

“What?” Sokka felt Zuko’s forehead, relieved to find no fever (although _how_ he could find a fever on someone who ran as hot as Zuko was … a concerning idea). “Zuko, I’m actually here.”

“No.” Zuko shook his head tiredly and closed his eyes. “No, you aren’t supposed to be trapped down here. You - you need to be up there-”

“I’m where I need to be,” Sokka whispered. He held Zuko’s hand tightly and watched his face for any pain. “You really scared me, buddy.”

Zuko smiled, his eyes still closed. “Oops.”

Sokka snorted.

“Hey, Sokka?”

“Yeah?”

“...stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sokka promised, still clutching his hand. Zuko nodded before his face went slack and a light snore tumbled from his open lips. “I’m staying here,” Sokka whispered, afraid at how much he meant that.

* * *

Sokka didn’t know how long it was before Zuko was well enough to sit up, but he knew it wasn’t long enough before Zuko insisted on returning to his duties. 

Something about people’s spirits backed up at the gates, and how they shouldn’t have to wait a moment longer -- regardless, Sokka was on edge the entire time Zuko was gone that first day, and when he returned that evening, Sokka crowded him in until he was back in bed with his feet up.

“Careful,” Zuko warned as Sokka pulled the covers over him. “I … might get used to this.”

“Good.” Sokka tucked the covers around him. “You should because I’m not going anywhere.”

They both blushed and looked away from each other.

The next day was the same, and the next and the next and the next -

At some point, Sokka returned to his workroom and went back to fixing things as well as he could with his mind wandering to concern over Zuko’s health (which was, admittedly, returning as quickly as a powerful immortal’s should). 

Zuko had told Sokka recently that whatever Katara had used was a sort of lightning, designed by his sister, Azula, to torture gods in the war. 

“It should have knocked me out for a decade,” Zuko had whispered, and Sokka’s dreams that night were plagued with nightmares of Zuko screaming in pain.

But, something had stopped the suffering, and Sokka wasn’t sure what it was - he just knew he was grateful. Grateful that Zuko wasn’t trapped in his mind, electrocuted endlessly for ten or more years - even the ten minutes he spent seizing in Sokka’s arms had felt like an eternity.

Sokka’s mind left its twisted path with a sound from the doorway; the quiet noise of someone clearing their throat.

“You’re back.” Sokka set the tools down on the bench and stood with a grin.

Zuko’s smile, which had been firmly in place, slipped a little as he stared at Sokka from the bottom step.

“What?” Sokka pawed at his face. “Do I - do I have grease on my chin? Or ink?’

“No.” Zuko took a hesitant step forward. “It’s just … no one’s ever been … happy to see me.”

Sokka blinked and then strode forward; he clasped Zuko in his arms and hugged him tightly, his large arms swallowing Zuko in the embrace. Zuko’s arms slipped around his back and held him with a strange, unexpected strength.

“I am,” Sokka said into the air behind Zuko. “I’m always happy to see you.”

He pulled back and looked into Zuko’s eyes; something shifted there, and they both missed a breath. The air felt thicker in the workroom suddenly, and Zuko’s eyes flickered between both of Sokka’s.

At this distance, Sokka could see the awful circles under Zuko’s eyes.

“You’re tired,” he noted softly.

“I’m always tired, Sokka.”

“You should get some rest.”

Zuko opened his mouth, no doubt to argue; but, he thought better of it and only nodded. “I should.”

“Okay then.”

Sokka found that he didn’t want to let Zuko go; he dropped his forehead to his and closed his eyes, not wanting to break the comfort of the moment. Zuko didn’t pull away either, but only grasped Sokka’s arms firmly, as though holding him in place.

After a few moments, Sokka realized that Zuko was shaking.

“Shit.” Sokka opened his eyes and took a step back. “Sorry, I - you should get to bed.”

“Right.” Zuko cleared his throat and took a step backwards. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Sokka grabbed a hammer and spun it in his hand with an awkward smile. “I’ll … see you later.”

Zuko nodded and then faded into the shadows; Sokka smiled and went to work, the back of his neck still burning hot.

“That’s new,” he muttered to himself.

He swore he heard a snickering laugh.

“Oh, get over yourself,” he snapped at the invisible spirit, and got a loud raspberry in his ear for his troubles.

* * *

Time passed strangely in Zuko’s kingdom, but it passed all the same: and, all too soon, Sokka found himself staring at Zuko incredulously as he stumbled back in from a longer than normal time at the front gates.

“Where were you?” Sokka snapped. “It’s been like … two and a half of your … normal time there!”

“We need to get you a clock,” Zuko muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “Sorry - there’s been … a lot of spirits recently. They’re all disoriented, like they can’t remember dying.”

“Ugh.” Sokka winced. Of course Zuko had a _good_ reason for being gone for so long. “I’m not mad - you’re just still healing, and I … get worried.”

“You get worried about me?” Zuko seemed to find that amusing.

“What?” Sokka muttered defensively.

“I get worried about you,” Zuko said, half-smiling at him in a way that had been making Sokka’s stomach flip around recently.

“Fine. We worry about each other.” Sokka sighed as Zuko let his outer robe slip from his shoulders, leaving him in a tunic. “How’s your chest?”

“Fine.”

“Really?” Sokka challenged, crossing the room quickly. “Because you look exhausted, and that usually means-”

“It’s fine, Sokka.” Zuko groaned when Sokka didn’t stop staring pointedly, and he hauled his tunic over his head, standing only in his pants as he gestured at the scar. “See for yourself.”

The area around the scar was no longer bright red, and Zuko’s chest wasn’t covered in a sheen of sweat. Sokka prodded the scar tenderly, watching Zuko’s face, which turned pinker, but showed no sign of pain.

“And your breathing?” Sokka asked, letting his hand trail along Zuko’s ribs as he frowned and tried to feel for damage.

“Also fine, Doctor Sokka.”

“Okay.” Sokka nodded, satisfied. “I still don’t think you should be on your feet for so long-”

“I’m a god, Sokka-”

“Uh-huh,” Sokka rolled his eyes, “god of being a pain in my ass.”

“Takes one to know one.”

And they both snorted at each other’s ridiculousness before their eyes met and they looked away, both of them strangely shy.

Sokka’s hand lingered at the top of Zuko’s stomach, his palm pressed to the burst of scar tissue between his ribs- he could feel the hammering of Zuko’s heart against its cage.

“I thought the god of the dead didn’t have a heart?” Sokka teased, letting his eyes travel from his own hand, back up to Zuko’s eyes. 

He swallowed when he saw the amber fire alight in Zuko’s eyes; it was then that Sokka remembered the other name for the lord of the underworld. 

_The Fire Lord._

Keeper of the flame: Zuko’s hand wrapped around Sokka’s wrist, keeping his hand in place. Time stretched infinitely between them, and Sokka felt like he was balancing on one foot on top of a mountain; a step in either direction would settle something inside him with a finality that should scare him. Only it didn’t scare him. He wanted to see where it led.

“I have one now,” Zuko whispered, knocking the rest of the jokes clear out of Sokka’s mind.

After all, there was no humor here, where Zuko’s heartbeat shivered through Sokka’s skin. There was no humor as they drew closer together, celestial objects on a crash course. There was no humor in the way Zuko watched Sokka, his hunger blatant, the threat of being consumed, imminent. 

Sokka couldn’t think of any of that as Zuko closed the distance between them and kissed him so gently, he thought for a moment that maybe he was fragile - maybe, despite the strength he’d been given by the moon, despite the fighting and the wars and the killing he’d had to do for his people, despite all of that, Sokka was something to be taken care of, and not to take care.

Then, thoughts were lost as Zuko’s other hand came to his cheek, spreading the fire beneath Sokka’s skin. 

Their kisses tangled together into a stream of them, and they stumbled back to the bed, Sokka stroking his hands over Zuko’s sides to discover what made him shiver and twitch, and Zuko pressed kisses into the column of Sokka’s throat as they both wrestled with Sokka’s tunic and pants.

By the time they fell to the bed, Sokka’s entire body was on fire, or at least, felt like it was; Zuko kissed him over and over again, not letting him come up for air, and Sokka was sure he’d combust at any moment.

His throat was ragged and the air he breathed in was dry from how he panted and writhed; Zuko wasn’t faring much better when Sokka used his larger frame to flip them so he pinned the god to the bed. 

They watched each other, blue eyes staring into gold, and Zuko’s hands were trembling as he put them on Sokka’s chest.

“What?” Sokka whispered, nosing along Zuko’s jaw, kissing to the edges of his scar. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Zuko answered in a voice that wasn’t breaking but broken already. “Nothing’s - Sokka-” he gasped when Sokka’s teeth grazed behind his ear, and his hair tangled in his long hair. 

Time slipped through the room in unwinding spools of light and warmth; Sokka lost all meaning to anything in the universe except Zuko underneath him, and forgot any name for any creature in existence but Zuko’s. 

He’d never felt out of place in his life before, but here he felt something more, a something that slid into place behind his heart as he rocked into Zuko, treasuring each keening noise of pleasure and rough groan he dragged from his pretty throat.

The heat of their bed wrapped around them with flames unseen and seen - when Zuko peaked with a cry of Sokka’s name, the tapestries caught on fire, smouldering conflagrations that Zuko put out with a weak moan of laughter as Sokka paused in his movements to chuckle into Zuko’s bare, sweating shoulder.

“Shut up,” Zuko muttered into Sokka’s ear before biting at the lobe. With a groan, Sokka surrendered, unable to say anything at all as he came with a trembling, incoherent shout.

They held each other for what felt like an age.

Sokka curled his body around Zuko’s protectively, kissing his thin shoulder and brushing away hair that smelled of brimstone and smoke from his nose. Zuko pressed into Sokka’s chest, clutching his hands in his own as their breath returned to a steady normalcy, or whatever could pass for normalcy in the after of their love.

“Sokka.” Zuko spoke suddenly. “Sokka, you should know-”

“I think I do know,” Sokka said gently. “And it’s the same for me.”

Zuko didn’t say anything, but he did start to shake again, until Sokka held him tighter and breathed steadily.

“You’ll be gone soon,” Zuko whispered. “And where will I be? What will I do without you?”

“No. I’ll take care of you,” Sokka murmured, kissing the knob at the top of Zuko’s spine until he shivered. “I’ll stay, and I’ll take care of you.”

“You can’t stay,” Zuko said, and if it weren’t for the grief in his voice, Sokka might be insulted. “You can’t. Your home is up there - you’ve been trapped here for months out of nothing but coincidence. We can’t-”

“I can.”

“Sokka.”

“Zuko,” Sokka said sternly. He gripped Zuko’s arm and turned him until he faced him in the tangle of their sheets. 

“Zuko.” Less stern now that he could see the tears swimming in the god’s eyes. 

Sokka brushed his broad nose over Zuko’s sharp one, and whispered, “Zuko,” one last time before kissing him slowly, opening Zuko’s mouth with care and gentle strokes of his tongue. He framed Zuko’s jaw in his hand, thrilling as ever in the constant warmth of Zuko’s skin.

“Let me stay,” Sokka said when they stopped kissing long enough to speak, “Let me take care of you.”

Zuko dragged the back of his fingers against Sokka’s cheek, and then down his neck before answering. “That sounds like a proposal.” 

“Maybe it is.” 

Zuko froze, panic and hope tied together painfully in his expression. Sokka kissed between his raised eyebrows until they lowered, and wrapped his arms around Zuko so his face was pressed to his chest. 

The god of the dead was shaking again; Sokka could feel his body tremble against his.

“You wouldn’t want to take care of me,” Zuko whispered into Sokka’s skin. “You’d see what everyone else already does: I’m angry, and short-tempered-”

“I’ll pick you up when you yell at me.” Sokka shrugged and smiled into Zuko’s hair when he grumbled.

“ _And,_ I’m busy-”

“I can be busy, too, I’ve been told I’m pretty useful--”

“And I’m trapped down here, which drives me crazy. I couldn’t do that to - I’m not worth it.”

“You are.” Sokka rubbed a hand down Zuko’s spine, liking the way it drew his slender frame closer. “To me, you are.”

With Sokka soothing him, Zuko eventually fell asleep, and Sokka wasn’t far behind.

His dreams were calm. He stood in an endless sea of grass, and when he turned, he smiled because Zuko walked towards him, his hair short and his clothing simple. They held hands and did nothing but stand in the field, at peace for an unbroken eternity.

* * *

No matter how many times Sokka took Zuko into his bed, both of them taking each other into their bodies, Zuko refused to see reason.

Sokka was sure if you asked Zuko, he would say that _Sokka_ was the one rejecting reason.

Regardless, they tried not to talk about the winter solstice; Sokka didn’t want to leave out of love for Zuko, and Zuko didn’t want him to stay out of some ridiculous nobility.

While Zuko was at the gate one day, Sokka wandered the palace, his mind slipping around uncomfortable realities of his impending departure. They’d both declared their love at this point, and Sokka knew Zuko to be a truthful person, through and through: he didn’t doubt Zuko’s love, but he also didn’t doubt Zuko’s love being able to push Zuko into forcing Sokka to leave.

His foot struck something as he walked through an old, dusty room. Squatting to pick it up, Sokka saw that it was a small box.

He opened it curiously, and pinched a small amount of the contents between his fingers. 

“Leaves?” He muttered to himself.

His eyes widened; Sokka looked around quickly and then snapped the lid of the box shut. He tucked it inside his tunic and sprinted for his workroom - there was a machine he’d been tinkering with that could very much help him in this moment.

And then, there’d be no need for an argument anymore.

* * *

Zuko brought Sokka back to Druk’s gate on the Winter Solstice.

Sokka’s feet moved slowly, wondering at what point his deception would be discovered; would Druk stop him from leaving? Would he return to the palace the second he reached the top of the staircase?

His silence was not suspected of anything deeper by Zuko; Zuko only held his hand tightly with his jaw set in a grim determination.

To their surprise, there was already someone at the side gate when they arrived.

“Aang?” Sokka asked incredulously. “Uh. What?”

The air walker offered him a small smile. “I’ve come to bring you home. This time, with no tricks.”

Zuko’s grip tightened on Sokka’s momentarily.

“Aang, that only happened because Zuko was dying - and the first time, _I_ was dying. He never meant for this to happen.”

“That might be true.” Aang eyed Zuko warily. “But still. We all agreed, I need to bring you home. Katara would have fought Zuko if she came, so … I’m alone. Now let’s go.”

Zuko let go of Sokka’s hand and stepped away, his throat spasming visibly.

“I can’t leave,” Sokka said, before either of their hearts could break. He was talking to Aang, but he was staring at Zuko.

“What?” Aang said angrily. “Why? Is he keeping you here?”

Zuko flinched and looked away, his hands folded and hiding in his long sleeves.

“No. Because - you said, Zuko - you said if I ate or drank anything I’d never be allowed to leave-”

“You force fed him?” Aang shouted in fury, wind building up towards him despite his promises that he had come in peace.

“Aang stop it, he didn’t! I’m the one who-”

Two sets of eyes stared at him, grey and gold, as Sokka’s voice faltered.

“Sokka, no.” Zuko’s good eye widened in horror before he swept towards him. “No! I found all the food in the palace. I burned it! There’s no way-”

“There was ... tea.”

It was clear that Zuko’s heart, reconstructed after eons, stopped at Sokka’s words. He cringed away from the heartbroken expression on the god’s face and turned towards Aang, who had one hand tight on his glider.

“I drank some tea. I found it, I brewed it, I drank it.” Sokka swallowed and avoided Zuko’s burning gaze. “So I’m trapped down here, too.”

“How much is _some_?” Aang asked in a brittle voice.

“Six cups?” Sokka asked, wincing at the hiss from Aang. “I, uh, wanted to make it … stick.”

“Sokka-” His name was broken on Zuko’s lips, and Aang’s fury faded into grief in his face. “Sokka, one _sip_ would have been enough-”

“Why did you do that?” Aang interrupted Zuko, angry again. “Sokka - Katara won’t let it rain. She’s stopped the rain, and now people are _starving_ because she’s trying to force Zuko to let you go-”

“Is that why there’s been an increase in the dead?” Zuko’s horror was palpable, and Sokka winced as he turned towards him again. He saw Zuko cradling his head in his hands. “There’s been … so many children …”

“Zuko, I didn’t know she would do that,” Sokka said softly, reaching a hand out towards him.

He half-expected Zuko to knock his hand away; instead, Zuko gripped his hand and turned towards him as well. They pressed their foreheads together like they had done most evenings after Zuko returned from his work, exhausted through the marrow of his bones; their fingers threaded together as they stood, connected by these two points of contact.

“I didn’t mean to do this behind your back,” Sokka whispered, wishing Zuko to believe him. “At least, I didn’t want to. But you were so determined to send me away.”

Zuko shook his head. “I understand. I - I wasn’t exactly relishing the thought of watching you leave.”

“Um.” They both looked at Aang, having forgotten they had an audience. “Are you two-”

Sokka could feel Zuko blushing - fire bled beneath his skin even when he wasn’t worked up, after all -- and he answered for them both. “Yes. I love him.”

Aang looked to Zuko, who sighed before saying, “And I love him.”

“Oh.” Aang rubbed his neck. “That’s. That’s really great. Um. I wasn’t … expecting that.”

Zuko snarled, fiercely enough to match Druk. “You expected I had him chained down here, beaten daily, tortured by fire-dogs?”

Sokka tsked softly and nuzzled Zuko’s hairline until he stopped bristling, especially after Aang chuckled weakly and said, “Something like that...yeah.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Sokka whispered to Zuko before addressing Aang. “Zuko’s been good to me. He _is_ good. And you can tell Katara that I’m happy here.”

“I don’t know if that’s going to change anything. She … really misses you,” Aang said hesitantly.

“Well, I can’t leave.” Sokka crossed his arms. “You can bring her down here and I can explain it to her myself.”

“No.” Zuko shook his head. “No, because the solstice is almost here. Aang, you need to leave soon if you don’t want to be trapped down here. And you-” he turned to Sokka. “You should try. Try to leave this place. Maybe it _is_ just a myth.”

“Like you said.” Sokka took Zuko’s hand and squeezed it. “We’re living in a myth. And we’re going to keep living in it, together.”

“That’s. Cute.” Aang muttered, rubbing his neck. “Oh, Katara is not going to like this at all.”

“It will be fine, Aang.” Sokka gestured to the stairs. “Now really, you should go. You’d hate the air down here.”

Aang opened his glider, still glancing between them nervously before sighing and waving at Sokka. “I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“I’m sure too,” Sokka said. “And until then, goodbye, Aang.”

“Take care of him, Zuko,” Aang said without any sort of malice.

“I will.” Zuko smiled at Sokka who scoffed indignantly at the idea that he’d need anyone to take care of him. “Goodbye, Aang.”

With that, Aang took off, flying straight upwards towards the open air, and a moment later, he was out of sight.

Sokka rubbed his neck as he grinned at Zuko. “So. Uh. Are you going to get all hot-headed on me now?”

Zuko rolled his eyes and then tugged Sokka in for a kiss. “You’re an idiot,” Zuko declared. 

“But I’m your idiot?” Sokka asked hopefully. Zuko snorted before nodding, and they kissed again drowsily before a thought occurred to Sokka.

“Zuko?”

“Hmm?” Zuko kissed Sokka’s jaw, not lifting his head yet.

“Zuko - don’t you want to go outside? It’s your last chance until spring.”

“I can wait,” Zuko whispered, pulling away with a smile. “You’re here; nothing up there can compete.”

Sokka grinned bashfully. “Sap.”

“That’s right.” They kissed again. “I’m your sap.”

“Mhm.” Sokka sighed contentedly and then wrapped his arms around Zuko in a tight embrace. “And I love you.”

“I love you, Sokka.”

* * *

Of course it couldn’t last.

Sokka couldn’t tell time any better than before now that he was at home in the Underworld, but time went by too quickly before Aang re-appeared.

He stood awkwardly in the front hall of the palace one day, having shown up without warning or invitation.

“Is it the spring equinox already?” Sokka asked, confused, as he walked towards Aang.

“No.” Aang fidgeted with his glider, and a small amount of fear crossed his face as he looked over Sokka’s shoulder. “I have a message for you.”

“What?” 

“He means for me,” Zuko said, stepping out of the shadows to stand at Sokka’s side. “What is it?”

“From the old gods.” Aang cleared his throat painfully. “Katara begged them to … intercede. She hasn’t been causing the drought on purpose: it turns out that Sokka’s absence has lessened her ability to cause rain. It’s grief. Not cruelty.”

“She can come visit then,” Sokka said, studying Zuko’s face for an answer. “Right?”

Zuko looked away into the shadows, his face dark.

“Right, Aang?” Sokka turned to his friend instead. “Because I can’t leave.”

“That’s just it.” Aang fidgeted with the glider. “I … suggested a compromise, and they’re willing to let it happen, even if you did eat … or drink, I guess, when you weren’t supposed to.”

“A compromise?” Sokka repeated dully. Still, Zuko said nothing.

They’d been so happy earlier; wrapped around each other in bed, laughing as they talked about nothing at all, but everything at the same time. Zuko had even been saying Sokka might be able to join him at the front gate when he worked.

“Six months,” Aang said softly. “Six months here, and then … six there. Starting with the next equinox.”

“That’s five weeks away,” Zuko said quietly, his voice as distant as the whispers of the ghosts that always lingered in the air.

“Yes. And, Sokka will be able to come back at the autumnal equinox.”

“So, the gods can change their minds about _that_ rule, but they won’t let Zuko leave?” Sokka asked indignantly. “That isn’t fair, Aang. Clearly they’re just making these rules up! Couldn’t you-”

“Sokka, please.” Aang swallowed with sympathy in his eyes. “I’m … I’m a messenger. Nothing more.”

Sokka looked away, his grief too powerful to maintain eye contact with his oldest friend.

“Zuko, Sokka. I am sorry. I really am. I tried to say that you two loved each other, but-” Aang sighed. “That was actually the only reason they said Sokka could come back at all.”

“Zuko hasn’t done anything,” Sokka said angrily, wiping a tear from his eye. “Not in a millennium, Aang, don’t they-”

“I have to go,” Aang said sadly. “Really, I’ve … stayed longer than I said I would. They needed you to know that when spring starts, you have to come back. And you can’t return here for six months.”

“It’s fine, Aang.” Zuko cut off Sokka’s protest, and he bowed to the god of wind. “Thank you for taking the time to let us know.”

Aang bowed, and with one last regretful look, twisted in mid-air and vanished.

“Zuko, we can’t let them-” Sokka began, but Zuko crashed into him and kissed him so fiercely, he forgot any end to that sentence.

Their kisses were desperate, fueled by a fire that threatened to consume them both, and it was there on the floor of the front hall that they came together, panting, half-clothed, half-sobbing.

Zuko curled himself around Sokka at the end, panting, his hair a mess as his eyes seemed to glow red. “Why?” He choked out, his fingers scrabbling at Sokka’s chest before he sat up and wept into his hands. “Why? Why us?”

Sokka sat up and wrapped his arms around Zuko, pressing his forehead into his shoulder. “I know,” he said sadly for each broken question Zuko was able to form, “I know, beloved. I know.”

“We were h-h-happy,” Zuko sobbed, his hair in his face as he clutched Sokka’s arms. “W-we were-”

“We were,” Sokka whispered. “We really were.”

* * *

Time passed by quicker than ever in the land that always seemed to disregard time.

Soon, Sokka was at the top of the staircase, blinking in the overbearing sun as Zuko stood at his shoulder, grim, quiet.

They’d said their goodbyes in the shelter of their bed that morning, and last night, and the entire day before. Sokka still bore the marks of Zuko’s mouth along his collar, and Zuko’s pale chest was dotted with similar marks, grouped over his heart and along the edges of his newest scar.

“I love you,” Sokka had whispered, right before they stepped out into sunlight.

“You are the only thing in the universe to me,” was his tense reply.

And now, Katara stood with the hope in her face so bright it hurt worse than the sunlight. 

“Sokka!” She launched herself to him and hugged him tightly, half-crying with happiness. “Oh, Sokka - I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Katara.” Sokka shook his head and held his sister, burying his face in her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

“And you-” Katara wheeled on Zuko, her face crumbling into a sob as she threw her arms around his neck too. 

Zuko looked slightly stricken, but bore it with dignity.

“I didn’t know you loved him,” Katara was saying, “I’m sorry, I - it’s just - I love him too-”

“I understand.” Zuko hugged her back and she took a step back at last, wiping her face.

“I promise I don’t usually cry this much,” she said with a laugh.

“That’s definitely not true,” Sokka teased gently, and Katara rolled her eyes at him before taking his hand.

There was a distant rumble of thunder that they all turned towards; clouds built on the western horizon, over the forest at the center of the world.

“Looks like it might rain,” Aang said from his position further away from the reunion (from the farewell, Sokka didn’t let himself think).

“It might just,” Katara agreed with a watery smile.

“I should go.” Zuko eyed the sun nervously; they had held off on coming as long as possible, and Sokka’s heart twisted in his chest as he let go of his sister’s hand and went to kiss Zuko fiercely.

He framed his narrow face in his hands and kissed him as much as he could, trying to put six months of kisses into one, and Zuko held him, tears damp on his cheeks as Sokka pulled away.

“Six months,” Zuko whispered, grief making his eyes dull. “We can do six months.”

“I’ll come home to you,” Sokka promised in a low, private voice as he searched Zuko’s face for any spark of hope. “Six months, then I’ll be back. I’ll come back to you.”

“Like a boomerang.” Zuko chuckled, a forced sound that didn’t match the pain in his eyes.

Sokka laughed weakly. “Exactly like a boomerang. Can’t get rid of me.”

“You have to walk away.” Zuko whispered, staring down at their clasped hands. “I don’t - you have to. You have to walk away, and don’t look back. I’m not strong enough to let you go.”

Sokka kissed Zuko’s knuckles individually before looking directly into his eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong, Zuko. You’ve always been strong enough.”

They released each other slowly, and Sokka took a step back; the clouds approaching began to release their water, the distant thrum of rain striking the trees to the west. 

In that moment as the earth sighed in relief, two hearts broke in such a way that each jagged edge would match up with the other - but they wouldn’t get the chance to do that. Not for quite some time.

Sokka realized as he turned from Zuko to take his sister’s hand again, that time -- which had for so long held no meaning to him as a god, as an unwilling visitor to the Underworld, as the lover of the Fire Lord -- was no longer meaningless.

Six months stretched ahead of him, and Sokka wondered how the next half-year would look.

As Zuko watched Sokka, guardian and fixer of broken things, walk away, his heart grew heavy with the promise of the next half-year.

The god of the dead glanced up at the sun and noted its position. Casting one last glance at the man he loved, Zuko closed his eyes and sighed.

The edge of an approaching raincloud crossed over the sun, bringing darkness to the land below.

While Katara spoke of the coming months and the happiness they promised, her arm linked through her dear brother’s, Sokka looked over his shoulder for just a second, hopeful for one last glance at his beloved despite his promise to not look back.

His heart seized in his chest when he realized that he was too late:

The god of the dead had already been stolen away by shadow.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, xoxo. Please, please let me know what you thought, and I'm sorry again for dumping all the angst on you!


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